


Distinctions

by Fishyz9, imaginentertain



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishyz9/pseuds/Fishyz9, https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginentertain/pseuds/imaginentertain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny and Will pretty much have worked out this parenting business.  After Arianna came the twin boys, so when it comes to their youngest they should be done with the surprises, right?</p><p>Wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distinctions

**Author's Note:**

> Product of a bored Sunday afternoon in which LA and I did a round robin on Tumblr. She wrote Will, I wrote Sonny, we wrote this.

He’s trying to act like he isn’t hurt. With his back conveniently turned he fiddles with the coffee machine, but I know better. Scratch that, we know better. I share a glance with Ari across the breakfast table and it’s clear to see that she’s itching to hug him, but we both know he’s too proud to admit that our youngest, Emmy, has cut him deep with her temper tantrum.

_ You’re not even my real dad! _

She wasn’t to know that those words coming from her or Ari have the ability to hurt him like nothing else. They’re _all_ ours; Ari, the twins, Justin and Luke, and Emmy. Biologically of course the girls have Horton blood and the boys Kiriakis blood, but they are all ours. Try explaining that to a nine year old with a rebellious streak that rivals her Grammy Sami’s, though.

Ari pushes away from the table, taking her bowl to the sink, and then glances at me before leaning against the counter near to where Sonny pretends to fix the coffee machine that isn’t broken.

“I’m heading off,” she says to both of us.

“You have that Econ test today, right?” Sonny asks, bravely lifting his chin and facing her, his usual bright smile in place. “Do you feel prepared?”

“Yep, those flash cards you went through with me did the trick, I think. Though…”

“What?” I ask.

She glances at me, and then back at Sonny with a sweet smile. “I could use a Sonny-Bear hug for good luck?”

I lean back in my seat, hiding my smile behind my coffee cup. I am so proud of the young woman she is becoming. He sees through it of course, but gladly pulls her into his arms.

“I love you, Papa.” She says quietly. “And so does Emmy.”

“Get going you,” he says, kissing her forehead and turning back to the coffee machine. “And text us when it’s over, let us know how it went.”

“Yes, please.” I add, lifting my cheek for her to kiss.

“Will do, see you later.”

“Bye honey,” I call, and wait until I hear the front door close behind her. “Sonny…”

“I’m fine.”

“Come sit―”

“I said I’m fine, I’m just busy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the coffee machine, sit down.”

* * *

There’s not much I hate about my husband.  I mean, I dislike the way he thinks that the towel fairy cleans up in our room, and I may not be a fan of the way that he leaves coffee cups on his desk until they could walk back themselves.

But hate?  No, I reserve that for the way that he always calls me out on my avoidance of issues.

I was never liked this, not until the kids came along.  And by that I mean Arianna of course.

"We need to talk about—" Will starts.

"No, we don’t.  We knew that this would happen one day and we agreed that we wouldn’t draw attention to what is just Emmy acting out.  She’s upset, she’s angry, and instead of yelling that she hates us which any normal kid would do, she has something else in her arsenal.  That’s it.  I’m not making a big deal out of it."

"But it is a big deal," he says and I just want to go back to the coffee machine.

"It’s not, Will.  It’s just a temper tantrum."

"We can’t let it pass without saying something."

"Will—"

"No, Son.  I mean it.  Fine, she was angry and upset, but would you let the boys say that to me and not do anything about it?"

"I wouldn’t make some big production out of it either," I counter.  "We agreed; our kids are allowed to be who they are and feel what they feel.  We both know what it’s like to be oppressed and—"

"Emmy is in no way oppressed," Will retorts and yeah, he’s calling me out on my exaggeration.  We both know it.  "She crossed the line and we need to deal with that."

"She’s nine, love.  I bet she didn’t even think about what she was saying."

"All the more reason to talk to her about it."

"Will—"

"I’m serious.  After school the three of us will sit down and talk about this."

"And the boys will do what?  Sit on the sidelines?"

"Fine, then we’ll all sit down," Will responds and there’s that flash of hate again.  Why does he always do this to me?  "It’s important."

"Why?" I ask.  I mean, I get why; what Emmy said hurt but I’m adult enough to recognise the difference between _I’m a young girl acting out_ and _I’m going to say the most hurtful thing I can think of_.  Emmy is smart and intuitive and far too cunning for someone her age (yeah, thanks Sami) but she’s in no way vindictive or mean.  ”Why do we need to make a big deal of this?  Surely by doing that we are turning it into a weapon?  Something that the boys could use against you one day when it’s your turn to be the bad cop?”

Will sighs and looks down and I can feel it in my gut that this is something bigger than those few words Emmy said to me as she was being hauled off to school.

"Because you’re Ari’s dad," Will says.

For a moment I don’t get it.

"Because when it all came out I had no idea what role I was going to play in my daughter’s life but then you were there that night at the hospital.  You never left my side and when we got back together I started to think that you’d be a part of her life.  You kept referring to her as my daughter until she was born.  Then you stopped.  I know why, I always knew why.  You’d go to say ‘our daughter’ but you’d stop yourself because you felt like you had no right to do that.

"Then Gabi… well… and Ari _was_ ours.  Legally, rightfully ours.  That was the first day I watched you allow yourself to call her your daughter.  You’d loved her like yours from the moment she was born and watching you deny yourself that for the first year of her life?  I know how much that hurt you.

"Emmy is _our_ daughter.  It’s Horton blood in her veins but there’s more to family than that.  The boys are mine and the girls are yours and I won’t see you pretend that you’re OK with anyone, even if it is a nine-year old girl, thinking that she isn’t yours too.”

He looks up at me and damn, we’re both crying.

"We sit down tonight, all six of us, and we talk about this.  No arguments."

I don’t have it in me to offer any so I just get up and go back to the coffee machine.  Somehow it’s fixed itself in the time we were talking, but I fuss with it anyway.  Gives me time to think.

Because while what he said is partly true - Emmy has been mine every second she has existed in this world - Will doesn’t know what led up to Emmy saying that.

* * *

She’s not a mean girl. She doesn’t like yelling, she’ll befriend anyone, and she always begs her brothers to just call it a draw with the computer games and the roughhousing because she’s happiest when everyone is getting along. She has a tender heart which ironically more closely mirrors Sonny’s persona than mine.

So I can tell immediately once she gets out of class, clutching her princess backpack closely and waving goodbye to her friends with a barely there smile that her outburst this morning has weighed heavily on her small shoulders all day. When her eyes land on me her steps falter slightly, clearly remembering my anger at her behavior this morning. I tilt my head to one side, and crouch down to her level, giving her a soft smile. She quickens her steps until she stand in front of me, but hesitates when usually she’d already be in my arms, telling me about her day.

“Hi, beautiful. How was your day?”

“Good,” she says quietly, and then bites her lip.

I suppress a smile. If she knew how truly adorable she was with those big blue eyes and blonde ringlets―yes, ringlets― she’d take over the world. I take her backpack from her and turn her so as to thread her arms through the loop.

I turn her again to face me, remaining crouched where I am. “What did you learn?”

“In Egypt where there’s pyramids they would write in pictures.”

“Is that right?”

She nods. “It’s called hierogly…heiro…”

“Hieroglyf―?” I try to finish for her.

“No don’t tell me, I know!”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing and wait patiently.

“Hiero… _hieroglyphics_!”

“Good girl, that’s a big word.” And because I’m not twenty anymore and I don’t want my knees to ache I hook my hands under her arms and swing her up, onto my hip, and we begin heading home.

“I liked the pictures,” she says, her skinny little arms curling around my neck in that way that melts my heart.

“You should tell Papa when we get home.”

She goes suspiciously quiet and rests her cheek against my shoulder.

“Don’t you think he’d like to hear about these pictures?”

“I don’t know,” she all but whispers.

“I do. He loves it when you tell him about the things you learn at school, that way he gets to brag about what a clever little girl he has to all of his friends at work.”

Again she says nothing so I bounce her in my arms a little. “You awake there, little lady?”

I’m surprised when instead of answering me I hear her hiccup. “Baby?” I stroke my hand over her back and slow to a stop when I feel the dampness of her tears against my neck. “Hey now…what’s this?”

“Daddy,” she loosens her grip enough to look at me, and her chin does that thing where it dimples and trembles. “Daddy, I was mean.”

And then she begins to cry in earnest.

* * *

"I don’t see why we have to be here when Emmy is the one who—”

"—said those things to you this morning."

You’d think I’d be used to it by now.  Twelve years old, fourteen minutes between them, and they are still one person.  One thought, one voice, one idea sometimes.

"Because your dad wants us here," I say,

"It’s important," Arianna tells them.

"She was angry, we get it," Justin starts.

"Not that we’d say it to Dad but we’ve had those moments," Luke finished.

"She’s just emotional and—"

"If you dare say she’s being a girl I will hit you both into next week," Ari threatens, "and when we catch up with you I’ll knock you into the one after that."

"Enough," I say, putting a hand on Ari’s shoulder - both as a sign of restraint but also thanks.  "Your dad wants us to sit down and talk about this so we’re going to sit down and talk about this."

"I understand where she’s coming from," Luke says suddenly.  "I mean, it is a little weird."

"What?" I say, my other hand reaching out for the back of the nearest chair.

"We love Dad, don’t get us wrong," Luke continues, "but there are moments when we look at him and it’s like—"

"—we’re being told off by someone who’s not related to us," Justin picks up.  "Well, he is, but in that step-parent way."

"Papa’s my step-dad," Ari points out as I sink into the chair, "but I’ve always loved him like he’s my dad."

"And we love Dad like he’s our dad," Justin says.  "But when people look at us, what do you think they see?  They see two girls who have Dad’s eyes.  They see his blond hair on Emmy and they see him in the way that both of you behave."

"Then they see us," Luke picks up, "two Kiriakis boys if ever there were Kiriakis boys.  And it doesn’t matter that Dad’s name is on our birth certificates, it doesn’t matter that Papa’s is on Emmy’s.  It doesn’t matter that there’s a custody agreement for you."

"They look and they split us down the middle."

"Which is why we shouldn’t be doing it," Ari stresses.  "We are a family.  All six of us.  Blood is just biology."  She reaches out and takes my hand.  "Papa has been there for me my whole life.  He and Dad have been there for all of our lives."

"But they’re not at our school," Justin points out.

"And neither are you, sister of ours," Luke chimes in.

"What’s school got to do with it?" I ask.  This is not-quite new information, I suspected that this had, in part, come about because of Emmy’s recent move up to Middle school, but to hear it confirmed?  "They can’t have a problem with it—"

"I went there!" Ari protests.  "They were cool with you being involved in everything."

"Is it her friends?" I ask.  "Is that where this has come from?"

"Do you think our Emmy would give a second’s notice to anyone who tried to tell her that you weren’t her father?" Justin asked.  "She gets deniability—"

"Unlike us, the Kiriakis clones," Luke drones in the age-old joke.  The boys really are the spitting image of me, much to everyone’s amusement and their annoyance.  "But she never once uses it."

"She told a substitute teacher off once because she called her Emmy Horton, instead of Emmy Horton-Kiriakis.  She then declared—"

"Very loudly!"

"—that she had both of her daddies’ names."

"Yeah, I remember."  And I do.  Because even though we’d been called in to discuss our daughter’s ‘misbehaviour’, I’d never been more proud of her.

"So where has this come from?" Ari asks.

Luke shrugs.  ”Maybe she’s just—”

"Being a girl."

Ari picks up the nearest thing to hand, which thankfully happens to be just a pen, and throws it at her brothers.  She’s got a good aim, even with her left hand because she’s still holding on to me with her right.

"Guys, come on," she says.  "Emmy’s never been like this before and she’s got no reason to start now.  Something’s up, something’s happened, and if you have any idea what it is then you need to tell us."

"See, who needs a mom when you have her as a big sister," Justin teases.

"I do, because my little brother and sister are always causing some kind of hassle," Luke deadpans, knowing that the quickest way to win an argument is to remind him of those fourteen minutes.

"Papa?" Ari asks me quietly, giving my hand a squeeze.

I know she’s worried about me, I know they all are.  I know that even though they shouldn’t be all three of them are far more mature than they should be for how old they are.  And I want to tell them that I’m quiet and listening to them because I’m just so overwhelmed with how much I love my family.

I never thought about being a dad.  I never really planned on it when I was Ari’s ag.  Joys of being gay; automatic birth control.  Except then there was Will and Gabi and then Arianna came along and as soon as she was born I was a dad to her and there was no going back.  The boys and Emmy were just a natural progression from that.

"Papa?" Ari asks again and I shake my head.

"I’m fine, sweetpea."

"Yeah, when you call me that I know you’re not," she smiles.  "You’re being stupid and sentimental again, aren’t you?"

"Should we start a fight or something?" Ari jokes, and almost immediately the pen comes flying back across the table, hitting Ari perfectly on her forehead.

Ari’s left-hand throw might be good, but Luke’s the star pitcher for a reason.

"Bit more normal for you, Pops?" Justin teases.  "Good old fashioned family fights?"

"This doesn’t count as a fight," Luke says, "no one’s getting shot."

Ari nods and points at him.  ”True.”

"Also no affairs, blackmail or bribery," Luke continues.

"OK, that’s it.  You are not spending any more time with…" I start, but stop with a laugh when I realise that there’s not a single person in Salem who doesn’t know exactly what the Horton, DiMera, Kiriakis and Brady families are like.

"You’re my dad," Arianna says suddenly, the mood becoming serious in an instant.  "And I know you’re Emmy’s too."

"She loves you," Luke adds.  "You know she does and—"

"—and she’s probably just as upset as you are."

"So where’s it come from?" I ask.  "What has school got to do with it?"

The boys look like they’re about to tell me but they stop when they hear the door open.  Even though Emmy is a full nine years old and is very much a big grown up girl now, she’s still in Will’s arms like she’s a baby again.  He must have carried her all the way home (no mean feat given her size and the distance) but she is clearly upset over something.

"Stay," I tell the three children that I can just sense are eyeing up their escape routes.  Whatever is happening to my family we are sorting it out.  Together.

* * *

When we get through the door I’m met with the concerned gazes of my family. Sonny’s already up, out of his seat, but I’m dismayed at how Emmy seems to hide away from him against my shoulder as soon as he reaches out for her. It’s enough to stop Sonny in his tracks. I know that it’s shame she’s experiencing, and that she doesn’t know how to look at her papa when feeling so horribly guilty about how she acted this morning, but he doesn’t know that.

It takes him a second, but he regroups and settles for stroking his hand down her back. “Hey, you,” he says, his voice infinitely tender. “Don’t I get a hello?”

That’s all it takes. She turns, her arms already outstretched and he practically catches her. I’m not only relieved at the sight of them together, but I’m also reminded that I need to get my butt down to gym more often. My arms should not ache this much from carrying a nine year old for twenty minutes.

“Hey, shh, come on now,” he says in that comforting way of his when the tears start again. He sways her gently and rests his cheek against the top his head. “What’s all this, huh?” She just shakes her head, too upset to speak.

I stroke the length of his arm. “Why don’t we sit down?”

“That sounds good, hmm?” he says, and carries her over to the dining room table. Only, when he tries to set her down, she won’t let go and only continues to cry.

I look at the boys and Arianna, and while Ari shows only concern for her little sister, the boys merely share a knowing look.

“How about we move this to the couch?” Sonny says, and walks ahead of us. He sits in what is known as his seat, with Emmy secure in his lap.

Arianna sits next to me, curling her feet up underneath her and resting against my side, and the boys splay themselves in the two seater, nudging each other’s limbs out of the way.

“Emmy?” I say softly. “Do you want to tell Papa what it is you said to me?”

She sniffs gently, and then Sonny does most tenderhearted thing I’ve ever seen. He rolls down his sleeve over his hand and wipes under her nose.

“ _Eww_ ,” Luke whispers, and Justin digs his elbow into his side.  “What?” He whispers to his brother. “It’s _gross_.”

“Don’t be a dweeb.” Justin snickers.

“Hey,” Sonny says into her ear, seeing as she still won’t look at him. “I’d really like to know why you’re so upset, pumpkin. Why don’t you tell me so I can make it all better?”

She fiddles with a button on his shirt, but avoids looking at any of us, and doesn’t answer straight away.

“Hey, brat.” Luke says, but in an affectionate kind of way. “Right now you’ve got both of the parental units all mushy and wrapped around your little finger, so if you’ve finished snotting all over Dad―

“―now would be a great time to ask for mountain bikes, or something.” Justin finishes.

I feel Ari shift beside me and I know, I just know she’s about to throw something at them, probably a shoe, but then we hear a small laugh, and all five of us exhale in relief.

“There’s that smile,” Sonny says, like he’s in love and back in that hospital room all over again, holding her for the first time. “There’s my little girl’s smile, I’ve missed it.”

“I’m sorry,” she practically whispers, and I’m so proud of her when she looks up at Sonny, and then says it again, louder this time. “I’m sorry I was so horrible, Papa.” And then her chin trembles, her eyes filling with tears again.

“Oh honey, sugar-pie, my little cupcake…” he says softly, almost laughing while he peppers her face with kisses.

“I’m hungry.” Luke whines.

I let Ari throw her shoe.

“It’s okay,” Sonny says, ignoring the circus going on around him. “I just want to know why you didn’t want to go to school, that’s all. What got you so upset this morning?”

She goes quiet again, and suddenly the front of Sonny’s shirt is fascinating to her. “Emmy?” I say gently, absentmindedly stroking my hand over Ari’s dark hair. “We’d all like to know.”

“Yeah,” Ari says beside me, in big sister mode. “You know no one's allowed a secret in this house, so hurry up and spill so I can get over there and smush your cheeks with kisses.”

“Ari,” Justin says. “Is it because of what you showed me and Luke yesterday?”

Both Sonny and I look at one another, and then at the twins. They’re little terrors sometimes, but they’re also eerily perceptive, and very protective of their baby sister.

Ari nods her head, and both I and Sonny speak at the same time: “What’s going on?”

“Can you not talk at the same―?”

“Time? It’s creepy.”

Twins. They’re friggin’ hilarious.

Ari ignores them and slides from Sonny’s lap. She walks over to the door where I left her backpack and unzips it, then pulls out one of her work books and slides free a piece of paper which, when unfolded, is quite large. She walks back over to Sonny, content to be pulled back into his lap.

“We did heiro…heir…” she looks at me and I mouth the word to her. “Hieroglyphics today, but yesterday we did something else, and I didn’t know if I’d have to finish it today in class to show the teacher. I didn’t want to ‘cuz I kept messing it up.”

 I can’t see what he’s looking at so I watch for Sonny’s reaction. His eyes instantly fill with understanding and compassion, and he hugs her close. “Oh, sweetie.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Can I?” He asks her, and when she nods he takes the piece of paper and turns it towards me.

What he shows me is a picture of what is clearly a tree, but there are angry scribbles all over it with crossed out writing and lines that have been drawn and erased and clearly redrawn.

“What is it?” I ask again, squinting because I don’t have my glasses on.

“It’s a family tree.” Ari says softly beside me.

* * *

It’s amazing how neither of us saw this coming.  You’d think after putting three children through Middle school that the last one wouldn’t bear any surprises.

Turns out we were wrong.

"Mrs Gold said we had to do our daddy’s side and our mommy’s side," Emmy says, "and I just put you down instead of a mommy.  But then Mrs Gold came over and she asked where my mommy was."

I am determined not to bristle, I can’t.  Emmy is pliant in my arms and she’s not showing any signs of moving so I can’t let her know that there’s something wrong with what she’s just said.

"What did she say then?" Will asks.

"Noffin," Emmy sniffs.  "She just asked where my mommy was and I said that I have two daddies and she said noffin."

"That’s something," I hear Will mutter.

"We were doing about the Egyptians and how people would be king or queen because of who they were related to," Emmy continues, "and Mrs Gold talked about how if your mommy or your daddy were royalty then you were."

"You two knew about this?" Will asks the boys who just shrug.

"Mrs Gold is a lather-rinse-repeat teacher," Justin says.  "We did it—"

"—so we knew Emmy would.  And we told her that she should put you both down."

"I did," Emmy says, "like they said I could."

The whole school knows about our kids.  The whole town does.  Mrs Gold didn’t say anything so I don’t understand why Emmy’s so upset.

"Go on, baby," Will soothes.

"There’s a new kid in my class," Emmy starts and I’m already putting the pieces together, "and he was saying about how his grandpapa died and left everything to his daddy because he was his real kid.  And that his daddy’s step-brothers and sisters got nothing.  And Mrs Gold said it was like that with royalty sometimes, that only the royal kids got everything."

I’m trying really hard not to cry here but I know that I’m going to fail miserably.  I could cope with ignorance and bigotry, I know what to say to them about that.  We talked about it with all of them at one point or another.  But this?  This never even entered my mind.  For every moment since Ari breathed her first our children have been my children and I’ve not cared about where they came from.  It never occurred me that _they_ would care about bloodlines.

"You’re not my… my real daddy," Emmy whispers, "and I don’t—-"

She doesn’t get to finish the sentence she’s scared of saying because she’s pulled out of my arms.  Not by my husband but by her brothers.  Ignoring her protests she’s laid out across their laps, four arms wrapped around her.

"Now listen up, brat," Justin starts.  "If you are seriously thinking that you’re not in the Kiriakis line then we have news for you because—"

"—-Great Uncle Victor has already said that you’re his favourite," Luke picks up.  "I mean c’mon, only one of us got away with drawing on the mansion walls and it certainly wasn’t me."

"And he redecorated an entire room because you didn’t like the colour," Justin says, his hands finding Emmy’s tickle spot by her ribs.  "One painting gave me nightmares and the old man just told me to—"

"Deal with it.  So if any one of us four is a Kiriakis then it’s you—"

"Bratlet, so no more of this, OK?"

Emmy pushes at their hands so they’re not tickling her anymore, but she stays where she is.  ”I’m not a brat,” she pouts.

"No, you’re not," Arianna says.  "You’re a Horton-Kiriakis girl.  Two of the biggest families in Salem and we belong to them.  Bradys too when you think about it."

"And the DiMeras," Luke adds.  "Aunt Sydney and Uncle Johnny are DiMeras and you know they love us."

"So when you think about it, bratlet, we’re part of every big family this town has to offer."

"And you know what that means?" Ari asks, moving to join her siblings on the other couch.  When Emmy shakes her head Ari reaches out to rest a hand on her sister’s stomach.  "It means one day us four are going to rule this town."

"Hey now," Will says, playfully but still warning them.

"What?" Arianna replies.  "It’s true.  Thanks to you and Papa we’re related to everyone with money and power.  And it’ll come to us eventually."

"Even the Kiriakis fortune," Luke says, getting in one final tickle before letting Emmy sit up.

"Grandma Adrienne and Grandpa Justin love me," Arianna says, "but with you it’s different."

"Because I’m the baby?" Emmy sniffs.

"Pretty much," Arianna sighs melodramatically.

"And just in case you need any more convincing do you really—" Luke starts.

"—think that we would put up with you if you weren’t our little sister?"

"The six of us are a family," Arianna declares, and the four of them look over at us as if they have just remembered that we were there.  "And one day this whole town will be ours."

"I want the frozen yogurt store," Emmy declares, and her brothers laugh as they dive in for another round of tickles.

I pick up the family tree that Emmy spent so long over.  There I am, right next to Will, with my parents and brothers, and Uncle Vic branching off where the maternal side would normally be.  There’s still the faint outline of a box that just has the word “mommy” written in it.

Emmy knows, as do the boys, about surrogacy and what that means.  We have details about the egg donor that ‘mothered’ our three youngest but they’ve never asked about her.  Never seemed to want to.

Will’s arm drapes over my shoulder as he shuffles in next to me.  We watch our four children play fight and tickle and set up a Horton vs. Kiriakis war which soon evolves into an oldest vs. youngest one, and after that we can’t keep track of who is on which side.

It doesn’t matter; they’re all on the same one when it comes down to it.

Then it hits me.

"What?" Will asks, sensing that I’ve tensed up.

"They were right," I whisper.  "One day?  They’re going to rule this town.  Every big family comes down into those four."

Will lets out a long, slow breath as he thinks about this.  ”I am really, _really_ glad,” he says eventually, “that they are on our side.”

They must have heard us say that, as the next thing we know there’s a cushion flying through the air, and our star pitcher’s aim is true.

New battle lines: parents vs. children.  And that’s the only true distinction we can really make in our family.


End file.
